Friday Funny

A funny from the desk of my Dad...

I Love Mustard.

As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham (I'm sure he means soy ham) on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown , gourmet mustard. The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side.

"Here, hold Johnny (our three-month-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.

I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers. I love mustard. I had no napkin. I licked it off. It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it on my tongue. Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said, 'Now you know why they call that fancy mustard . . . "Poupon."